


Off To Bed

by Gildedmuse



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gift Fic, Kink Meme, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 10:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildedmuse/pseuds/Gildedmuse
Summary: Jayne gives Simon a work out?





	Off To Bed

**Author's Note:**

> [Written in 2009 for a really good friend otherwise probably wouldn't have written this couple]

**Off To Bed**

 

“You sure that ain’t too much for you, boy?”

 

Simon pushes the barbell up, determined to go on ignoring Jayne‘s mocking tone. He really only expected as much if Jayne ever happened to find him playing with his equipment. No, he’d expected to get yelled at and thrown the hell off the workout bench, not just told off for not having a spotter. Certainly hadn’t expected Jayne to start hovering over him, watching.

 

Maybe he’s more afraid of River than he’s letting on, Simon decides, giving the weights another push. It’s really the only decent excuse he can think of for why Jayne hasn’t simply kicked him out of his space. He’s certainly never hesitated threatening to kick Simon off the ship. So what reason did the man have to be nice to him this time? Well, not exactly nice, Simon can’t find anyway such a soft, generic word would fit Jayne. No, not nice, per se, but not as thuggish as he usually acted towards him.

 

This isn’t right. Simon came down here to empty out his thoughts, not create new ones. Shutting his eyes until he saw spots of lights from squeezing so hard, forcing his mind blank, he keeps pushing at the bar. Just needs to go long enough that he’s so exhausted that he won’t be able to think. Won’t be able to do anything other than drag himself to bed and pass out for a few hours sleep before someone inevitably wakes him up, having gotten themselves injured or caught River getting into trouble.

 

Is it so bad that he wants some rest, a few hours of his mind not swirling around in a near state of panic or worry for a couple of hours?

 

He can hear Jayne grunting over him, expects more comments about how weak he is, so Simon just keeps his eyes screwed shut. Refuses to stop despite how annoying Jayne may get. “You keep going, boy.”

 

Simon’s lips curve down, not so much a pout as confusion, really. He tips his head back to look up at Jayne, almost wondering who it is he could be talking to. That doesn’t sound nearly so nasty that it could be meant for him.

 

He’s sure that it’s only a miracle he doesn’t drop the weights on top of himself. That he manages to keep his elbows in place when he realizes why Jayne’s making those noises, watching him paw at himself through his pants. Rubbing his palm hard down against a very obvious erection.

 

Simon must have started staring, because soon enough Jayne’s looking right back down at him. “Wacha stoppin’ for,” he growls, like Simon is the one acting strange. “Tired your pretty self out already?”

 

Jayne is groping himself, and he expects Simon to go right on acting as though this is all proper and normal? Only apparently at some point his plan had started to work, because Simon has stopped thinking. At least enough that he begins pushing up the weights again when what he should be doing is snapping back at Jayne, calling him disgusting or barbaric, utterly unable to control even his basest desires.

 

If it’s all that savage and terrifying, why does Simon keep watching him? Staring at those roughed up fingers as Jayne handles himself none too gently. No hesitance or self restraint, nothing but hard touches and grabs that keep Simon’s attention from wandering anywhere but Jayne.

 

Like watching a beast in the wild, he decides, nothing more than that. Shallow breath and the heat working its way under his skin, those are all simply signs of physical activities. Working out and nothing more.

 

Simon is less sure how to explain away the sound he makes when Jayne finally undoes his belt, drags his zipper free. This has really gotten to the point when Simon should look away, not lay on the bench panting like some animal in heat.

 

Times like this, Simon is forced to come to terms with how little his upbringing means all the way out here, to the criminals and mercenaries he travels with. No class, no mannerisms his mother fed him as a child ever prepared him on what to do in these situations. There is no proper way to react, because this simply isn’t anywhere close to how proper people behave.

 

Jayne wraps his hand back around his cock and the only response Simon can manage is to moan. He only chokes it back when Jayne chuckles at him. “Always took you for a sly myself one, doc. Seems to me you‘ve just been waitin‘ get that pretty mouth of yours ‘round something hard.”

 

Such talk should fluster Simon, have him storming away. He shouldn’t be licking his lips.

 

All those calluses Simon notices covering Janye’s hands, they must feel so good on hot skin. Jayne seems to agree, pushing roughly into his hand. No inhibitions, like Simon is laying beneath him, staring with something akin to hunger.

 

Jayne is all coarse edges, harsh smells of dirt and sweat that are more familiar than Simon realizes. Back in the hospital everything smelled new and clean, put Simon in his place for work. The smell of something dirty and real, it should leave him sick not dizzy. Should leave his head pounding, not his pulse.

 

A hand on his shoulder shoves him back against the bench hard enough to shake the weights. “You keep that pretty mouth of yours to yourself.” Simon doesn’t even remember when he decided to put the bar up, much less push himself closer to Jayne, tongue running up the underside of his cock, like if he could smell he should be able to taste.

 

Jayne puts an end to that soon enough, and when Simon looks up at him he could swear he’s being laughed at. Oh, God. He’s enjoying this, isn’t he? Watching Simon unable to keep his eyes down, making him squirm around the bench, couldn’t even keep himself under control.

 

For once, Jayne has Simon on his table, not a place Simon should have gone willingly. Not a place he should be keeping himself, either, but then, Simon has made plenty of stupid decisions in the last year. What’s one more?

 

He lets Jayne hold him down, grabs onto the side of the bench himself to keep in place because he isn’t sure he can trust himself any longer. Not when he can’t even make himself look away, not when he keeps arching up from the table, lightheaded with scents and sights that should make him sick. Any good Osiris boy wouldn’t let some uneducated, unmoral mercenary hold him in place, fisting his cock right over his face. Any good Osiris boy wouldn’t have his mouth half opened, moaning for more.

 

He makes an honest attempt to ignore the way Jayne is smirking when he watches him. This has nothing to do with him, it’s only because it’s been so long out here in space. It isn’t like Simon would choose this, choose something so filthy and degrading as to be held down while Jayne jerked himself off.

 

The orgasm starts in his chest, rumbles up through his body like a growl. His nails dig into Simon’s shoulders enough to make him gasp, or maybe just seeing how feral Jayne looks when he’s coming. Simon doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look so entirely wild even in a moment.

 

Good Osiris boys don’t feel their cocks hardening when men hold them down and come over their faces. Such things are humiliating, sickening to be used and so powerless. Worse when a person only barely keeps from coming themselves after being used in such a way.

 

Being a doctor is about having self discipline, being a good brother is about staying in control. Simon has been all these things so long. He can barely force himself to give up power even to the captain, just outright refuses in most cases. Being kept in need and in place by a man like Jayne should not leave him hard, hips pushing up to rub his untouched cock against the cotton of his trousers like some eager-

 

“Slut,” Jayne chuckles, sliding down to sit at the head of the bench, legs all spread out and Simon right there, able to smell all that deep, in the dirt and grime scent he’s giving off. Should make a comment about showering, not just lay there panting like a school boy after he’s first go. “Always figured you had it in you, doc.”

 

Figured? As in he’s given thought to this? That should definitely upset him, but Simon’s brain has been so far frazzled and Jayne’s callused old fingers are running over the mess he left on Simon’s face, dragging the cum up to his lips.

 

Hell, he’s made a rutting fool of himself plenty so far tonight, why stop?

 

Jayne tastes like salt and labor, all the things Simon would wrinkle his nose at, turn away from as being menial and base. Only it’s hard to look too proud with his lips wrapped around Jayne’s fingers, lapping up any trace of cum. He reaches up, hands wrapped around Jayne’s wrist, holding his hand in place so he can suck away all the tastes, strong and bitter and filling his mouth completely as he slides his fingers deeper back into his throat.

 

His eyes flutter, thinking of Jayne’s hand wrapped around his cock. How rough he’d been with himself. How Simon should have gotten to his knees, never mind Jayne holding him down, should have let him use his mouth that way.

 

“Sure have a plenty talented mouth there, doc,” Jayne tells him, just low enough that it sends Simon further under, down into whatever he’s letting happen now. He isn’t even sure if he’s letting it happen, even, just knows he isn’t putting up much of a thought. “Must have gotten practice back at that big school of yours, yeah? Bet you had teachers a plenty turning that pretty ass of yours over a desk.”

 

It’s an insult, and Simon tries to glare at him, get him to stop. It would be more convincing if his lips weren’t curled around the fingers in his mouth, not even pausing when he shoots Jayne a nasty look. Certainly doesn’t stop Jayne. “Ah, wait. Nah, you ain’t never got with them, did ya? Thinkin’ you might like men who act a little rougher with ya. Who don’t apologize none when they fuck ya hard enough to start ya screamin’.”

 

Stick up for yourself, Tam. It’s barely a whisper in his head. Certainly doesn’t stop  body pushing off the table like the words are caressing him. His legs spreading out, begging Jayne to do what he keeps threatening. See if Simon isn’t exactly the type of person Jayne keeps talking about.

 

Only from Jayne’s smirk, he already knows good and well what the answer would be. “Yep. For all that actin’ proper and stuff, you‘re worse than most whores when it comes to wantin’ to get sexed. Anyone ever tell you that, doc?”

 

Simon can’t answer because he’s too busy whining when Jayne shakes his hands loose, pulling his fingers back. He fights just for a second, probably is pouting now, but what Jayne could do to him, it makes it worth having an empty mouth. For now.

 

He gives Simon a pat on the shoulder, standing back up and zipping himself in. It isn’t exactly what Simon had been waiting to see. “See you around, doc.”

 

Simon may be feeling a bit helpless at that moment, but he isn’t completely brain dead. He has enough wits to get himself sitting up, anyway. “Where are you going?” Because there is no way he can just leave.

 

Jayne snorts, smiling like a fool. No, like Simon is the fool. “Got what I wanted, doc. Man needs his sleep.”

 

Jayne walks off, and even when Simon can’t see him he can still see that smirk of his, thinking he’s won. No, having won because he’s going off to bed and Simon is still sitting there, jaw dropped, still a hard mess.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Simon spits, because times like these are just perfect for cursing.


End file.
